At first, the daylight was nothing but a sliver of brightness. With a little more effort, Corbin forced his eyes to open and the brightness spread into a blueness blurring past him as the heavy blanket of desert heat weighing on him. He blinked several times, trying to focus, but his skull throbbed as if a rubber band was wrapped around his forehead, forcing the blood in one spot. Why was the sky moving so fast? And why couldn't he thrust his arms? Twisting his head back, he learned why thanks to the cloaked person dragging him by the wrists with itchy rope chafing his skin.

As the haziness from his mind cleared, he remembered getting hit over the head. And now, as a result, he was being treated like a freshly killed doe.

"I'm thirsty."

"I thought I told you to gag his mouth?" said a deep voice farther ahead.

As Corbin twisted his head around, he noticed the other person was wearing a hooded cape as well. For now, his capturer's identity was a mystery, but one thing was for sure, they were nuts to be wearing capes in the desert.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one dragging him."

A female voice. It had been a while since Corbin encountered a woman, and a ripple of excitement tickled his belly. Maybe they were taking him to a colony full of women? A man could only dream. As long as they weren't like the drifter he met years ago. The one with a webbing of burn scars and cracked lips. She was hard to look at.

"Quit your crying. It's not much farther."

"Come on, Armis!" the female complained. "Can you please take over? He's heavy."

"Well, I'm offended!" Corbin exclaimed. "I'm on a diet. Trying to watch my figure and here you go and-"

"Shut it, Witcher!" Armis barked.

Instead of the female turning around, the male revealed his face, but the hood of the cape shadowed his umber complexion—cutting sharp lines across his high cheekbones, and chiseled jaw. Although, it seemed to be from malnourishment considering the caves under his eyes. As exhausted as he looked, he scooped Corbin up with his spaghetti arms and tossed him over his shoulder with impressive ease.

This allowed Corbin a better view of the female, and to his delight, her high cheekbones and narrow jaw were attractive. He barely even paid attention to the deep circles under her eyes because of her warm brown irises. They glowed like honey in the sunlight. Not having seen a woman in months, this one was plenty beautiful to him, even if she looked like a delicate version of who he was assuming was her brother. And he hoped he was because it had been weeks since he last touched a woman.

"Everleigh," Armis said, over his shoulder. "You should eat something. Reach in my backpack and eat the dried deer meat."

"I hate the way it tastes," she replied. "You eat it."

He stopped and turned around completely, giving Corbin a better view of the direction they were heading, which was nothing for miles. Just sand upon dirt and tumbleweeds skittering across the terrain. Where exactly were they taking him?

"You need to eat, Everleigh. What kind of brother would I be if I let you starve?"

"The kind who makes me drag a man across the desert."

"You dragged him for a mile. I've been doing most of the work, little Sis."

And there Corbin had his answer! They were siblings.

When Armis turned around to continue making their way, Corbin was back to staring at his kidnapper's rear. The musky scent puffing up as he pumped his legs didn't help with the unpleasant sight, and he wished he was out cold again. Now and again, he stole glances at Everleigh. She was slim, most likely from having to ration out their meals, but her limbs were strong with tiny yet firm muscles flexing as she subconsciously felt for her gun holster.

After a while, her rich tan complexion began fading, and her stride slowed. Corbin had seen the look many times before. Especially out in the wasteland, away from cities with potable water. He counted the seconds it would take for her to collapse. When he got to forty-seven, her eyes fluttered, and like a car crash, her body hit the sand with a hard thud.

Most people wouldn't feel bad for their abductor, but it was the way she laid there—small and fragile—he had to say something. If not, the image of her crumpled body on the hot sand would follow him, and the guilt would build like a water-torture drip. He already lived with many regrets, so he needed to help her—but did he?

With his mind made up, he began squirming like a fish on a reel.

"What the hell!" Armis shouted and brought Corbin down from his shoulder with a slam.

"Ouch!"

"What is your problem?" Armis demanded.

"Aside from the obvious," Corbin scoffed. "Look!"

He nodded towards Everleigh's limp body as she lay sideways with her right arm strewn across her head and legs in a pretzel-like contortion. Gasping sharply, Armis flew the five feet to her and knelt to pat her face, muttering Spanish curse words under his breath.

"Everleigh. Damn it. I told you to eat!"

Thinking quickly, Corbin worked the coarse rope back and forth, the sharp fibers cutting tiny slits in his skin as his heart thumped rapidly against his ribcage. He was so close to freedom, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind shouted that abandoning the siblings in their time of need was heartless. However, it wouldn't be the first or last time he skipped out on someone. People only cared about what he could do for them, but not about him as a person.

Over the years, he learned to abandon people before they could disappoint him. It was better to wander alone. No attachments and never having to worry about a companion slitting his throat in the night.

As the rope began to loosen, he pushed aside those thoughts—his freedom so much closer.

But then a familiar tingle stopped him from focusing on the rope. Water was nearby!

"Untie me," he shouted. "I can get her water."

Armis glanced over his shoulder. "I'm no dummy. You'll just run."

"Scout's honor, I will not do that!"

Sweat glistened across Armis's forehead as he glanced back at Everleigh, panic dripping down his face. "Come on, baby Sis. Come on." He patted her face. "You stupid, stupid girl! I told you to eat. I told you."

"There's water close," Corbin shouted again. "I can get it for her."

Skyrocketing to his feet, Armis flipped his cape back and brought his callused hand to the gun on his hip, cocking the hammer. "Promise you won't run away?"

"Promise." Corbin nodded.

"Look at her." Armis pointed behind him, his voice deep and raw, and Corbin knew better than to defy a man as desperate as him. "Her life is in your hands, so if you abandon her, I will hunt you down and kill you. I'm an excellent hunter too. Understand?"

"Yes," Corbin replied.

The man wasted no time untying him, and with just as much urgency, Corbin pumped his feet toward the water source. Armis followed behind him at a slower pace with Everleigh in his arms and the hot orange sun on their backs. Her head dangled, causing her dark hair to cascade like shimmering water over his arm.

As Corbin ran, the tug in his hands intensified, which meant the water was near, but where was it? A few feet ahead, a small patch of dry plant life shined under the descending sun—giving him the answer he needed.

"There!" He pointed.

Then, a thought occurred to him. He could keep running.

There was no way Armis could catch up to him with his sister in his arms, and there was no way he would set her down just to chase him.

But, there was nowhere he could run, let alone hide. Sweat dripped from his face, leaving dots in the sand as his heart pounded and his mind raced. These siblings were better at gun-wielding than him. Letting that bit of truth sink in like the sun’s heat on his back, he continued running towards the water source.

When he made it to the shrub, he collapsed to his knees and grabbed a fistful of its dryness, exposing the root. The edges of his mouth lifted. It still had a healthy white color, which meant yet again, his water witching senses found him an oasis.

With both hands, he scooped the sand until Armis arrived and plopped his backpack down next to him—a bag that was Corbin’s life source. He hugged it before removing a small shovel and plowed it into the sand with a grunt. He repeated the steps until the hole was deep enough to see damp earth. Muddy sand was a significant sign, and sometimes all he found was mud, but his Grandfather’s words always sang in his head: mud is mud because there’s water in it.

If all he found was mud, then he had the tools to filter and extract the water. It would end up having a gritty taste and a murky color, but at least it was hydrating, and his female kidnapper couldn’t be picky.

After almost an hour of digging, he stood in a narrow six-foot pit with the healthy roots guiding the way. A shallow puddle sat at his feet, so he shouted for Armis. Within a second, his gaunt, deep tanned face appeared at the top of the pit.

“I need you to hand me the long siphoning hose in my backpack. I also need that foot pump.”

“Right!” Armis’s dark head of hair disappeared, followed by clunking noises before returning to the opening and wiggling the hose like a snake. “This it?”

“Yeah,” Corbin replied, a hand over his eyes, shielding them from the late afternoon sun. “I need you to hold one end and aim it into that foldable bucket I have. Ok?”

“Ok.”

Using the other end of the hose, he drove it into the muddy puddle and attached the pump before working his foot up and down. After a while, his thigh burned from the repeated motion with zero luck. Giving it a few more tries, the water finally began pulsing its way up and he clapped his hands together in victory.

“Is it going into the bucket yet?” Corbin shouted.

“Sort of. It’s dribbling out.” 

"How about now?" Corbin gave a few more heavy thumps with his foot. “Better?”

“Much better! But what about the dirt?”

“Gimme a sec...” he replied and climbed out of the pit. To his surprise, Armis extended a hand and helped him up. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, sure. So what’s next?”

“I’ll show you.” Kneeling, he pulled out the tools he needed and began pressing the mud through a sieve with an old cocktail muddler. Murky water dripped into a small metal pot as Armis stood by, watching. “While I’m doing this, I need you to build a fire. We need to purify the water.”

Nodding, Armis reached into his rucksack, removing matches and some wood chips. Corbin crooked his brows.

“It’s called a Rocket Stove,” Armis said, pulling out two tin cans that formed an L-shape. “You place the wood in this part.” He pointed to the can on its side. “It works like a chimney—sort of—more like an old wood stove. Wood goes in the bottom can, and the fire comes out through the upright can.”

“Learn something new every day...”

“How do we get her to drink the water if she’s barely conscious?”

“We don’t.” Corbin focused back on filtering the mud. “I’ll make an IV for her.”

“An IV?”

“I know what I’m doing. I've done this before.”

“And it works?”

Corbin paused and glanced at him through the corner of his eye. "I wouldn't be doing this if it didn't."

"Right. But then again, you could be poisoning her, and I wouldn't know." Armis placed a hand on his gun holster and tapped it with his fingers.

"Listen..." Corbin exhaled and rolled his shoulders back. "We can either have a problem, or you can let me do what I gotta do to help your sister and just trust that I won't harm her."

"Fair." Armis sat back. "Guess we'll just have to see what happens, but for your sake, you better not hurt her."